The Redhead
by youcantseeus
Summary: Snape always picks the redhead.  Spoilers for DH.  Oneshot.


**AN: This is just something that I decided to write in the wake of **_**Deathly Hallows**_**. It contains mention of prostitution and spoilers.**

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Severus shivered. The nearly frozen rain soaked through his clothes, undoubtedly making him look like a drowned rodent. Severus didn't care. He pushed a lock of his wet hair out of his face in irritation and continued toward his destination.

Severus felt the ghost of a smirk on his face as he approached the entrance to the seedy bar. He stopped before going inside, giving the street a suspicious look. He must not be followed. The street appeared deserted and Severus gave a small sigh of relief. If any of Severus' acquaintances should, by some great chance, happen to see him from a distance, they would most likely not recognize him. They were used to seeing him in the long, black robes that he wore every day, but on this night Severus was dressed in muggle clothing. The blue jeans and sweater felt, as always, confining and uncomfortable on his frame, but they were … necessary.

Severus walked inside and sat at the bar, ordering a drink as he waited. Anyone looking at him at that moment would have seen a greasy man ignoring the other patrons of the dingy bar around him, a bitter smile playing on his face as he looked off into nowhere and gulped his drink. After a few minutes a small man sat down beside Severus. Severus ignored him for a moment, draining the last of his drink.

"You have someone for me?" he asked in a monotone voice, giving the man a glance.

The man smiled ingratiatingly at him and Severus momentarily felt sick to his stomach. Dealing with these sorts of people had always been distasteful to him. "I think that I have some girls that will be to your liking, Mr. Smith," the man said, giving a low laugh. He took out a small black book of the type that many people would paste pictures of their families in. He handed the book to Severus and Severus saw that it was full of pictures of women. Severus flipped through the pictures quickly, barely even glancing at the women in seductive poses contained within.

"The redhead," he said in a clipped voice, handing the book back to the other man.

The man gave him a sidelong look. "I thought so," he said. "I've heard of you, Smith … from an associate. I was told that you _always _choose the redhead."

Snape felt rage boil inside of him. What business was it of this man's if he did happen to like redheads? Many men liked redheads. "I don't have to discuss my preferences with one such as you," Snape said.

The man raised his eyebrows, offended. "One such as me?" he asked. "And you are so much better than me, are you? You paid for all those redheads, you know …"

"And if you would have me to pay for yours, you will hold your tongue," Severus said in a low, dangerous voice. The man reached into his pocket as though fingering a weapon and Severus reached for his own wand. The man looked into Severus' eyes and seemed to think better of drawing his weapon. It was a good thing for him too; he was a muggle. There were, of course, witches who were whores, but Severus never used them. The wizarding community was small and Severus knew that if he did use them, it would eventually get spread around that Severus Snape, professor at Hogwarts, frequented whorehouses. When he was younger, it had made him feel less guilty to use muggles. Muggles, after all, were made to be used by wizards. This was what nearly everyone he had ever known had told him. His mother, his Death Eater friends, and, of course, the Dark Lord. Everyone but her. After all this time working under Dumbledore, however, it seemed that some of the Headmaster's views had rubbed off on him.

The man scribbled an address onto a napkin and passed it to Snape. "Be there in an hour and half," he said. "And you pay her up front."

A redheaded girl answered the doorbell at the address and beckoned Snape inside. He saw that he was standing in a modest, one-room apartment dominated by a large bed in the corner. The girl gave him a timid smile. She looked younger than her picture and Snape suddenly wondered if he could do this. He was attracted to the young woman – she was probably about the same age as _she_ had been when she died, twenty-one or twenty-two -- but Severus couldn't help but be reminded of students whom had taught over the years also. The thought was not a pleasant one. He paid her upfront as the man at the bar had requested and began to take off his coat.

The girl stood shyly to the side and Severus recognized the signs of someone pretending innocence. With her big eyes, soft face, and age, it was probably what most men wanted of her.

"Stop it," Severus snapped.

"Stop what?" she asked, all confusion.

"Never mind," he said, unwilling to explain. "Come and kiss me."

The girl walked over and wrapped her arms around his neck, giving him a long and sensuous kiss. Severus moaned in satisfaction. It had been quite a while since he had last kissed a woman. He ran his trembling fingers through the dark red hair, giving a sigh of longing. It was almost exactly the right shade. He sniffed the cheap perfume the girl's skin, wondering what _her_ skin would have smelled like.

"Go get on the bed," he said, huskily. The girl was more than willing to comply.

Snape looked down at her and suppressed a sigh of disappointment. She was beautiful, for a whore, and her hair was just the right shade of red, but he would never be able to look into her eyes and see Lily. For many years, he had requested women with green eyes and they were not so hard to find; many redheads had green eyes. But Lily's eyes had been incredibly unique, distinctive – like dark green pools. Severus knew that if he could look into those eyes right now, he would not like what he saw. She would find his needs, his lusts as disgusting as he sometimes found himself. Yet, he could not suppress the desire to look into her eyes tonight, even if they were filled with hatred.

Snape looked at the willing girl before him and sighed. He was convinced that there was only one person living on this earth who had eyes like Lily's and he was a sixteen-year-old boy who despised Severus with every fiber of his being. Harry Potter. Green eyes that contained all of James Potter's defiant arrogance, all of Lily Evans' blaming condemnation and all of the pain of a life lived without parents who loved him. Parents Severus had helped take away from him. It was right that the boy hated him. "You are not a good person," those eyes seemed to say, every time Severus looked into them. He deserved the condemnation.

The girl looked at him, her eyes sultry and beckoning. Severus looked at her with scorn and just a bit of pity.

"Close your eyes," he said.


End file.
